by Jessica Wood
“But we’re not going to have sex. We’re just going to sleep.”
She shot me a doubtful look. “Right. Well, I’d like to sleep without the fear of a guy’s penis making an appearance. Would that be okay?”
“Ouch.” Damn, this girl is feisty. “Okay, fine. I’ll leave on my briefs if you insist. You’re the boss.” I winked at her.
As we sank into bed together, I pulled her closer toward me as she faced me and she wrapped her arm around my naked chest. I felt her soft fingers move up and down my back, which caused waves of pleasure to ripple down toward my growing erection. I kissed and she eagerly took my tongue into her mouth as she kissed me back. As our kiss deepened, I felt my pelvis involuntarily thrust toward her. I moved my hand under her t-shirt and felt her hot skin under my palm. She’s not wearing a bra, I realized as my hand moved up her soft back. I moved my hand toward her breast, wanting to feel them in my hand. But without warning, she slowed down and pulled out of our kiss. Her hand moved up to stop my hand that was inches away from her breast.
She looked at me and I saw a need in her eyes. She wants to fuck as much as I do.
But instead of guiding me toward her breast, she moved my hand out of her t-shirt. “I want to, but I don’t think we should,” she whispered. She then kissed my lips one last time before pulling away.
At that moment, I was thankful that the darkness had masked the shock and disappointment that must have shown on my face.
“Thank you for making tonight so much fun,” she whispered.
“It was fun, wasn’t it?” I surprised myself by how much I had enjoyed my night with this girl.
“Goodnight, Damian.” She then turned around to her side with her back toward me. Instinctively, I moved my body up against the contours of her backside. As I wrapped my arm around her, I realized that I’d never done this before with any other girl.
I couldn’t explain it, but the feeling of her in my arms felt perfect, and that feeling scared me more than anything else.
Is this what intimacy feels like?
I immediately pushed that thought from my mind.
No, you’re just horny and she’s a challenge. A worthy conquest. She’s making you wait, and it’s the anticipation that you’re feeling.
As I molded myself around her curves and drifted off to sleep, I wasn’t sure I was convinced by my own logic. I didn’t know what it was, but something felt different here.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Alexis
THE DISTANT SOUND OF MY FRONT door closing woke me up. My eyes fluttered open and the events of the previous night crept into my consciousness. I closed my eyes and smiled at the memories of his lips on mine.
I stretched my arms under the sheets and yawned.
I froze.
My eyes bolted open as the dense fog that had clouded my half-awake mind evaporated when I realized that my hand hadn’t bump into anything when I had stretched. I turned to look at the other side of my bed. It was empty.
I looked around my studio. It was also empty.
The memory of hearing my front door closing minutes ago came back to me like an echo.
Did he really just leave without saying goodbye?
A tide of disappointment cut through me as the gravity of what this must have meant hit me. He’d taken me out last night because he’d wanted sex—and only sex. He wasn’t interested in anything else—he wasn’t interested in me. While I was glad that I hadn’t given in to his advances, and against all odds, I had resisted my own desires to have sex with him, as I now sat alone in my bed, regret consumed me and the what-ifs started to swirling around in my head.
When I fell asleep last night with his arms around me, I had felt safe and happy. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt that way. In fact, I hadn’t even felt that way when I was with Chris, my ex-boyfriend of four years. And even from that first day when I met Damian on the stairwell, I had thought that there was something different about him that I had gravitated towards. And despite all of the red flags that he was a playboy and all his over-the-top flirtatious comments, I had sensed that there was more to this man than the cocky persona he seemed to work so hard to portray. And then there was all that had happened last night. First, our moment outside of Swan’s Oyster Depot. Next, our time at the pottery studio. And then, last night when he spooned me and held me while we slept. I had thought that I’d been right all along, because none of those moments had made him seem like the same cocky playboy he seemed to want people to think he was. None of those moments made me think that he’d wanted only sex from me.
“But I guess I was wrong about him,” I heard myself say out loud as I sat in my bed, feeling more alone than ever as I looked around at my empty studio.
Just then, a noise made me look toward my front door.
“Hey, you’re awake,” came Damian’s voice as he walked through the door.
“Hi, you’re back,” I said in surprise.
He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I didn’t go far.”
I beamed at him as relief greeted me like an old friend. He didn’t leave!
“So where did you go?” I asked as my eyes caught a glance of the paper bag and the tray of two coffees in his hands.
“Philz. Have you been there before?”
“No, I haven’t. It’s a coffee shop?”
“Damn, you have not lived until you’ve had Philz,” he exclaimed.
“It’s that good?” I looked at him skeptically.
“Yes. One of the best in San Francisco. I wasn’t sure what you would like, but they’re famous for their Mint Mojito Iced Coffee, so I got you one. Here.” He handed me a cup. “I also got a croissant, two mini cinnamon sugar donuts, and a breakfast burrito. I wasn’t sure what you’d like to eat in the morning.”
“And here I thought you were preparing yourself to feed some sort of army,” I teased. I took a sip of the Mint Mojito Iced Coffee. “Wow, you’re right. This is really good!”
“I just wanted to give you some options.” He handed me the brown paper bag.
I dug out a small cinnamon sugar donut and took a bite out of it. “And this,” I said as I motioned at the donut between my fingers, “is why you’re nice.”
“Don’t be fooled,” he laughed. “I’m just buttering you up.”
I giggled. “And exactly what are you buttering me up for?”
“That’s for me to know and you to,” he began and then paused for dramatic effect, “not know.”
“Smartass.” I made a face at him and laughed.
“I learn from the best.”
I shook my head and giggled. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually remembered what I had said to him the night we had sushi weeks ago.
“Anyway, I need to get going,” he said as he got up and grabbed his coffee.
“Oh?” I couldn’t hide the disappointment in my voice.
“Yeah, I need to open the bar. When are you done with your pottery class today?”
“Around five p.m. Why?”
“Do you have plans tonight?”
“Why?” I asked.
“Well. I…” He paused. “I had a lot of fun with you last night, Alexis.” I can hear the surprise in his voice and I studied his expression.
“Me too.”
“So if you’re free tonight, let’s hang out. I can stop by with some food.”
A thrill of excitement shot through me. He is interested!
“That would be fun. We can also go somewhere too. My treat,” I offered.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Girls don’t pay when they’re with me.”
I smiled at him. “See? Nice.” I loved a guy who was a gentleman.
He laughed. “If you say so. Anyway, I usually work the night shift on Saturdays. I got someone to cover for me tonight, but I want to be around in case something comes up. It’s my bar, so I would feel better if I was in the area. So I prefer staying in tonight. So how about I just bring dinner here to your place and we can do something chi
ll?”
“Yeah, sure. That sounds like fun.” A renewed rush of excitement filled me at the thought of hanging out with him again tonight. “Why did you take tonight off?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I just felt like it,” he responded vaguely. Then he leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. “Have a great day with all that wet clay. See you tonight.”
“Thanks. See you at five,” I beamed at him.
As I sipped my iced coffee and watched him walk out of my apartment, I finally allowed myself a small sliver of hope that maybe something really great could develop between us. Maybe something real.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Damian
SKIPPING OUT ON THE BUSIEST NIGHT of the week at the bar—and the best night for tips—in order to spend more time with a girl was the last thing I’d ever expected that I’d do.
And yet, there I was, on a Saturday night, standing in front of Alexis’s door with a bag of take-out sushi.
“Hi!” The door opened and I smiled the minute I saw her. Even in her jeans and plain t-shirt—this time with no stains or paint on it—she looked stunning. Her face seemed to glow as she beamed at me.
I held up the bag of sushi. “Since I had so much fun watching you eat your sushi last time, I thought we could have some sushi tonight. That way, I’m bringing the food, and you’re bringing the entertainment.” I laughed at my own joke as Alexis slapped me playfully across the chest.
“Very funny.”
I followed her to the kitchen as she brought down some plates from the cupboard.
“Sorry to break it to you, but I’ve gotten quite good at using those chopsticks.”
“Oh?” I made an exaggerated look of disappointment. “How did you manage that?”
“Don’t be such an asshole, Damian.” I could tell from the tone of her voice that she wasn’t really upset. “I’ve been trying out a lot of Asian food around SF since I’ve moved here.”
“Oh yeah? Look at you, Miss Adventurous.”
She rolled her eyes and I laughed.
“So what have you tried so far? I love Asian food!”
“Well, I’ve had Chinese food before in Iowa, but recently I’ve tried some Chinese Dim Sum, which was amazing. I also tried some Thai food and Korean food recently. I can’t believe they’re all so different.”
“Just like Ohio, Idaho, and Iowa are completely different states, these are completely different countries,” I teased.
“Touché.”
“Well, too bad we won’t be able to entertain ourselves by laughing at your chopstick-using abilities.” I feigned a downcast look as I pulled out the containers of sushi from the bag.
“Yeah, too bad,” she repeated sarcastically.
“I guess we’ll have to find something else to keep us entertained now.” I raised my eyebrows suggestively and grinned at her.
She hit me again, and this time, against my shoulder. “Think again.”
“What?” I looked innocently at her.
She shot me a knowing look.
“Hey, get your mind out of the gutter!” I gave her a look of disgust. “I meant like finding a movie to watch or something!”
“Uh huh.” She wasn’t buying my innocence act.
I laughed. “Come on, let’s eat.”
“Okay. I’m starving.”
Two hours later, I found myself relaxing on Alexis’s couch with her in my arms as we watched the movie Julie & Julia. It was not the type of movie I’d ever thought I’d watch—it was a chick movie—but as we were flipping through the options on her Netflix and she suggested the movie with hopeful eyes, I heard myself agreeing to watch it. And now, an hour or so into the movie, I was surprisingly enjoying it.
I glanced over at Alexis and noticed tears in her eyes. I looked at the TV screen and we were watching Paul, Julia Child’s husband, giving a toast to Julia in front of their friends at a dinner party. “You are the butter to my bread and the breath to my life,” Paul said to Julia. I returned my gaze back to Alexis and tears were streaming down her cheeks.
I gently squeezed her shoulder. “Hey, what’s wrong? Did I forget to tell you that I’m allergic to tears,” I joked, trying to lighten up the mood.
“Sorry.” She quickly wiped away her tears and looked up at me with a smile. “It just reminded me of the type of love my parents shared.”
“Oh.” A pang of anguish filled me as I thought about my own parents. “That kind of love is hard to find.”
“Yeah, it is.” Her eyes were filled with sadness, and I wished that I could take her pain away.
“You really miss them, huh?”
She nodded solemnly. “That’s why it was so hard to leave Iowa. I had so many memories of them there.”
“Why did you decide to move then?”
“To travel and see the world.”
I studied her, and there was something in her expression that made me wonder if there was something more to this story. “But you can travel and see the world and still live in Iowa. What caused you to just pick up and move to a city where you knew no one?”
“I…” Her voice trailed off as if she didn’t want to talk about it.
“Hey, sorry. We don’t need to talk about it. I was just curious.” I squeezed her shoulder and pulled her closer toward me.
“No.” She paused and looked up at me. “I want to tell you.”
“Okay.” I felt uneasy that she felt so comfortable with me.
“I decided to move away from Iowa because I realized that nothing was keeping me there. I was in a long-term relationship with someone, and I thought I had stayed for him. But…”
Anger stirred inside me when I heard her mention someone else. “I thought you said you didn’t have a boyfriend?”
“I don’t,” she said quickly. She looked away from me, and I knew she was hiding something. “We broke up.”
“Oh.” I felt my muscles relax when I heard that.
“Actually…”
“What?” I knew it! There is something more to this story.
“I broke up with Chris because I caught him cheating on me.”
I felt my fist clench when I saw the pain in her eyes. What a fucking asshole. “He sounds like an asshole.”
“I think we both knew deep down that we weren’t right for one another. We were good friends before we started dating, and he was there for me when my parents died. He didn’t want to break up with me because he was scared to hurt me. And I didn’t want to break up with him because a part of me needed a reason to stay in Iowa to feel close to my parents.”
“How long did you guys date?” Somehow the idea of Alexis dating another person made me irrationally livid.
“Four years.”
“I see.”
She observed me and seemed to sense my unease with this conversation. “Hey, let’s just watch the movie and not talk about something that doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Sure.” I agreed. But for the rest of the movie, I couldn’t shake off the agitation I felt. Why do I care about her being with another guy? There’s no reason I should be angry at or jealous of this Chris guy. So why do I want to bash his head in?
“That was a good movie.” Alexis stifled a yawn as she shifted in my arms when the movie ended.
“Yeah it was.”
As the credits rolled up the screen, a longer-than-normal moment of silence fell between us. I looked over at her and she grinned at me.
“You should make me that beef bourguignon Julie made in the movie sometime,” I joked.
She laughed. “Sure. Maybe after I finish my culinary course at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris like Julia Child did.”
“How about I just buy you her cookbook?” I pulled her closer toward my chest. “Then I can have that beef bourguignon sooner.”
“Nice try, buddy.” She leaned into me and I felt her body relax against mine.
Then the silence returned, and I watched her hand slowly move down my arm toward my hand. I flinched slightly as he
r hand intertwined with mine and an internal alarm went off inside me. This is intimacy. I don’t do this kind of thing.
But just as I was about to pull my hand away, I stopped. There was something about the way her interwoven fingers gently moved along mine that felt amazing. And as if they had a life of their own, my fingers responded to her touch. I watched in surprise as our hands moved together as if they had been made for one another.
Her fingers moved up my arm from my hand, following the trail created by the ink lines of the tattoo along my arm. “Your tattoo looks like a complicated maze made out of rose branches. Does it mean anything?”
She looked up at me with wide, curious eyes, and I smiled down at her. “Yeah, it’s my interpretation of the labyrinth of life.”
“Oh. What’s your interpretation of life?”
“It’s long and complicated. Sometimes you’ll get lost, sometimes you’ll hurt yourself on some thorns, and sometimes you’ll reach a dead end. But if you search hard enough, you’ll find the right path and escape whatever troubles you may face.”
“That’s beautiful,” she whispered. Our eyes met and I saw a mixture of sorrow, compassion, and love in her misty eyes. On impulse, I gently kissed her on the lips. “When did you get it?”
“When I was nineteen.” I didn’t have to think about the answer. The months leading up to the day I got that tattoo were forever scarred in my mind, like a nightmare that refused to loosen its hold on you even after you’d awoken.
“It looks amazing.” Her fingers continued trailing the labyrinth. “Was there a reason you got it?”
I thought about my answer before responding. “I was going through a rough time with my parents, and I got it as a constant reminder that when you think you’ve hit a dead end, you can always turn around and find another path.” My body tightened as I tried to push away the painful memories.
“Oh.” I could tell she wanted to ask me something, but she stopped when she noticed my pained face. She turned toward me, and to my surprise, she straddled me on the couch and faced me. “Thank you for telling me about your tattoo,” she whispered.
